


We All Have Our Scars

by KingCrowleysLittlePet_666



Series: Supernatural Reader Inserts (Stories and Drabbles) [19]
Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alcohol Poisoning, Alcohol problems, Alcoholism, Depression, F/M, Hospital, Near Death, Near Death Experience, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape, cursing, mention of rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-04 16:37:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14597187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingCrowleysLittlePet_666/pseuds/KingCrowleysLittlePet_666
Summary: Six months ago, you experienced the worst night of your life, leaving you vulnerable, broke, and addicted. After six months of nothing but excessive drinking, your body decided that it has had enough of the poison that you were constantly pumping into it. What happens when Jared Padalecki, your longtime crush, finds you unconscious on the floor of your trailer?





	We All Have Our Scars

**Author's Note:**

> If you would like a chance to win a personal insert fan fiction, then go ahead and go to my Tumblr (mamaimpala67.tumblr.com) in order to enter the contest. Entries will be closing down on May 20th!

The amber liquid swished around within the four inch glass filled with ice. Beside the cup that you cradled in your hand, fingers gently wrapped around the glass, sat the bottle of Jack Daniel’s whiskey, half empty. The alcohol began to take effect on your mind, vision becoming blurry and thoughts swimming through your brain. You were blinking more often than you had before. 

It became a nightly ritual - the drinking. Every night, around eight-o-three, you sat in the same seat at the same table in the same trailer on the same set with the same program on the television - a shitty cooking show that would transform into paid programing at three in the morning. However, the only time when it actually became a part of who you were was half a year ago. The event that caused the ghost fingers to appear as you slept and graze over the skin where the bruises had faded, that made nightmares haunt your dreams, that made you see things when the whiskey got too comfortable with your visions. 

You never even knew the man. It was supposed to be an exciting time at a bar with the boys, taking shots and singing shitty karaoke. The boys said that they would stay a little longer than you while you called an Uber driver, waiting outside on the curb until it showed up to take you back to the set. As you sat on the ground, legs brought up to your chest, cheek resting on your knees, you felt yourself going in and out of consciousness, not able to keep the alcohol that you took down without it affecting your body, you felt a hand gently come in contact with your shoulder. Figuring that it was one of the boys, you paid the hand no mind. It wasn’t until you felt yourself getting guided away from the spot on the curb that you knew something was up, even though your intoxicated body wouldn’t react to the situation correctly. Your mind was cursing and shouting for your fists to swing and your legs to get up and run, but your body just wouldn’t respond. 

In the end, you were abused and violated, eyes filled with tears and beautiful skin covered with black, blue, and purple bruises. Like a good little victim, you kept quiet. Like a good little victim, you told no one. Like a good little victim, you kept the rape to yourself, hiding the emotions deep within your heart and allowing them to build up inside of you, subduing them with the sour taste of alcohol - the same enemy that caused your body to stop functioning. 

The ceremony started to become a friend to you. The thing that ruined your mental health became the one thing you lived to do other than the job you had as a CW actress. Your job was something else that had been affected because of the event. Recently, as you have heard around the set, many people, coworkers, directors, and producers alike, believe that your character quality has gotten quite - what was the word they used? - depressing. As if the personality of the character has been sucked out - like when Jared’s character became soulless in season six - however what they didn’t know was that your own personality was slowly fading and was starting to affect your work. They didn’t know that you were able to fully relate to your character by now. They didn’t know that your mind was trying to cry out to them and tell them that something was wrong. At least, that was what you figured it was doing, anyway. Your mind had a strange way of tricking you into believing one thing when it was actually doing another. 

“Alright chefs,” the host of the show, Ted Allen, commented, voice echoing through the speakers of the television that sat a couple of feet away from you. “This appetizer round, you are going to use: haggis, smoked gouda, celery, and prunes. Twenty minutes are on the clock…” he trailed. “Clock starts now.” 

You turned your eyes to the television, glancing at the blurry image of the four chefs that were competing to win a ‘large’ amount of money. As you listened to the ingredients, you cringed and groaned. “You can’t make a...a fricken appetizer with that, Ted,” you groaned and threw your head back, taking another sip of the whiskey before slamming the glass back onto the table, ice rattling within. “That’s a bunch of...of um….grade A bullshit.” 

A ring ran through the trailer, causing you to jump slightly and look around before you spotted your phone next to the bottle of whiskey. You grabbed it and, without glancing at the caller ID, answered the phone, pressing it against your ear and slurring in the reciever. 

“Hello?” You answered. 

“Hey, (Y/N)!” The familiar voice of Jensen Ackles filled your ears. 

A childish gasp fell from your lips. “Oh my God, hey!” 

“Hey, so Jared and I are getting ready to turn on the game that we missed because of filming. Do you wanna watch?” 

“No, no, that’s okay, I’m a little...busy being inebriated at the moment.” 

“Inebriated? Why the hell are you drunk?” 

“Because it’s fun. You should really try it. It’s a great pastime.” 

“Maybe you should get to bed, (Y/N).” 

“Can’t. ‘M watching some dudes fight over who is going to get a damn blender.” 

“What?”

“I’m watching Chopped.” 

“Ah. Get some sleep, we’ll see you in the morning. Oh, and take a damn shower in the morning and brush your teeth. I bet they won’t really like you smelling like booze. We won’t either.” 

“Yeah, yeah, will do mom.” 

Jensen chuckled. “Alright, kiddo. I’ll talk to you later.” 

“Okay, bye-bye.” You commented and hung up, placing the phone onto the table, filling your glass with more liquid before taking a sip. You turned your attention to the screen. “No,” you said. “Look at your pan. Your pan is on fire goddammit.” You laid your head down on the table, slowly drifting off into slumber with the sounds of the show echoing in your ear. 

  
  


Eight-forty-three the next night was just like the many before. A cooking show played in the background and your best friend sat in the short glass that was cradled in your hand. You drank a quarter of the bottle that night in less than ten minutes, letting the alcohol flow down your throat like it was the last breath you were ever going to take. By nine, you were drunk, vision swimming and body swaying back and forth as you sat at the table. At that point, you were completely unable to tell what was being said on the television, the words mixing together as they hit your ear. 

The table vibrated, causing your brows to lift up and to glance around. It was then that you saw it: your cell. Reaching towards it, you wrapped your fingers around your phone, pulling it to your chest, turning it on. You could see, from the symbol, that you had a message. You blinked rapidly and shook your head, trying to get your vision to go back to normal. You opened the message and glanced at the screen. It was from Jared. 

_ Hey, Jensen and I are going to the bar, wanna come? _ He sent. 

It took you two minutes to skim over the message and fully understand what it was that was being sent to you. The bar. The same place where…

_ Nu _

_ *Ne _

_ **No _

_ I’m gooiut  _

You set the phone down and ran your fingers through your hair. You felt the table vibrate again and you reached to the phone and grabbed it, turning it on. It took you two minutes to read the message from Jared. 

_ You’re what? _

You read over the message - slowly - that you had sent beforehand. A sigh fell from your lips as you noticed that you had spelled a word wrong. Goddammit, self. 

_ I say I goit _

_ *I’m god _

_ **Goood _

_ ***GOOD _

You slammed the phone down on the table and let out another sigh, hoping that the text that you had sent would mean the end of it. However, another part of you knew that it was far from the end of the social interaction between yourself and Jared. Instead of it giving a small, short vibration, the entire table began to vibrate for a long period of time. Picking up the phone, you could see that you were receiving a call - most likely from Jared. Without waiting for your vision to clear to verify your prediction, you answered the call, pressing the phone against your ear. 

“Y’ello?” 

“(Y/N)?” Jared’s voice hit your eardrum. 

A blush fell upon your cheeks. It was as if you had been caught committing a crime. A sense of guilt fell over you as you responded. “Yee…” 

“Are you...drunk?” 

“No…” you trailed. There was silence over the other line. “Yes.” 

“What happened? Do you need to talk?” 

“I found a liquor store,” 

“(Y/N)...” 

“I drank it.” A giggle fell from your lips, reminiscing over the first moment that Castiel got drunk on the show. 

You could hear a small sigh from the man on the other end of the call and the smile that once lived on your face vanished. Your shoulders slumped and the guilt began to fill your stomach once again. 

“I’m coming over there.” Jared said. 

You shook your head rapidly. “No, no, no, no, no,” you mumbled and groaned. “Imma…” you glanced around, eyes skimming over the television before you closed them and continued to talk. “Imma take a nappy-nap.” 

“Nappy-nap…” Jared trailed. You nodded, knowing damn well that he couldn’t see the action. “Alright. Just take care of yourself.” 

“I will Sam.” 

“Jared.” 

“That’s what I said.” 

“No you-it doesn’t matter. I’ll see you tomorrow on set.” 

“Okay,” you raised your brows. “Nighty-night Sam-Jam.”

Jared sighed. “Goodnight (Y/N).” 

The phone call ended, allowing the television to be the only sound that filled your ears and echo throughout minimal space of the trailer. Again, like the night before, you set your phone down on the table and laid your head beside it, closing your eyes, drifting off to sleep. 

  
  
  


It was the third night in a row that week - fifty-second night that year - that you had a glass of Jack Daniels to accompany you. Beside your best friend, Jack, you had a guest that was going to entertain you for the night - some high quality Chopin Vodka. 

That day, during shooting, was one of the worst days that you have had in a couple of months. You didn’t have the slightest idea of what triggered it. Could it have been the previous mention of the bar the night before? The same bar where your addiction began? Or could it have possibly been the confrontation between yourself and Jared? He was the one that called you last night - at that point, you were slowly starting to forget. Jared was more concerned than anything, but you could tell that there was a small undertone of irritation that lingered in his eyes and his voice. Jared seemed - what was it - ashamed when you talked to him. That was the one thing that hit you the most. He was ashamed of you. At least, that was the way that you interpreted his interaction with you. 

By eight-fifty-seven that night, the cooking show was just concluding, Jack Daniels was gone and tossed into the cheap bin that sat beside the table, and Chopin was the one that comforted you. You poured the vodka into the glass that you drank the remainder of the Jack Daniels from, not really caring that the tastes mixed at first. It really wasn’t  _ that _ bad. 

By nine-o-four, a quarter of the Chopin was gone. 

By nine-fifteen, you began to feel strange. 

By nine-twenty, you threw up all over yourself, getting your clothes dirty with the food that you had digested earlier. 

By nine-twenty-two, your head began to spin, as if you were running in circles and not stopping. Two seconds later, you threw up again. 

By nine-twenty-seven, you got a text message. 

By nine-thirty, you were able to see your phone long enough to read the message. It was from Jared.  _ How are you doing, tonight, (Y/N)? _

By nine-forty, after being unable to respond, you got another text message from him.  _ (Y/N)? _

By nine-fifty, your breathing had slowed to approximately eight breaths per minute. 

By nine-fifty-one, you got another message.  _ (Y/N), I’m calling _

By nine-fifty-two, your phone rang. It was Jared. You weren’t able to answer. 

By nine-fifty-three, you were on the floor, arm wrapped around your stomach, gagging, feeling the food that rested in your stomach slowly come up. It made you feel incredibly lightheaded, vision becoming incredibly blurry. 

By nine-fifty-five, your phone rang again. You were on the floor. 

By ten, you couldn’t move. Your eyes were glazed and breathing jagged. Vomit covered your cheeks and covered the floor. 

By ten-o-five, there was a knock on the door. You couldn’t answer. 

By ten-o-six, someone pounded on the door. Still, you could not answer. 

By ten-o-seven, your door was kicked in. By the same time, Jared was by your side, your name falling from his lips. Jared shook you. You didn’t move. 

By ten-thirty-two, the ambulance arrived. The paramedics came in, grabbing you from Jared’s arms and packing you onto a stretcher. 

As the paramedics packed you up inside of the ambulance, Jared followed after you. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” He questioned, climbing into the vehicle with the men and women. 

The paramedics ignored Jared and began to run tests on you. Your eyes were closed, body still, completely unconscious. As the others paid attention to your immobile body, a male paramedic turned to Jared. “Did she digest any type of poison?” 

“I-I don’t know…” Jared shook his head and glanced between you and the paramedic. 

“How about alcohol?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Drugs?” 

“I don’t….no! She doesn’t do drugs.” 

“Allergic reaction?” 

“I don’t know!” Jared raised his brows and his voice as well. “I just showed up and found her like that! I tried to text her and call her and talk to her, but she just wouldn’t answer so I went over to her trailer and I just….found her like that.”

The paramedic nodded and turned to the others, conversing quietly as the vehicle raced to the local hospital. Jared could make out a couple of the words that were coming out of the paramedics mouths, but not enough to be able to understand what was going on with your condition. All he knew was that he had to tell someone. He grabbed the phone from his pocket, clenching onto it so tightly that his knuckles turned a bright shade of white. He went to the messages, opening up one of the group chat messages that he, Jensen, Misha, Mark Sheppard, Samantha, and Ruth were in. He immediately sent the message, frantically typing, not really caring if anyone was asleep. 

_ (Y/N)’s being rushed to the hospital. I don’t know what happened, but I found her in the trailer. She didn’t look good. _

Jared glanced at the phone for a couple of seconds before he put it back into his pocket, glancing at you, watching as you were set up with IV fluids and cleaned up. Jared didn’t know how long it was - it felt like hours - until they reached the hospital. As soon as they did, however, the paramedics pushed the door open and got out of the car. Others helped get your body out of the car. Jared climbed out after everyone else cleared the way. Nurses were there to help wheel you into the hospital building. Jared tried his best to keep up with them, trying to listen in on what the paramedics were informing the nurses of, but it was all to no avail. 

The nurses wheeled you past a pair of double doors. From that point, Jared could not follow you anymore. A male nurse held his hand up to Jared’s chest, stopping him from entering that part of the hospital. Jared was panting as he glanced down at the man. 

“Sir,” the nurse said. “You have to stop. We have to ask you to wait in the waiting area. We will come get you when we know something.” 

“Do you have any idea what happened?” He asked. 

“The paramedics suggested alcohol poisoning.” He commented. 

Jared’s eyes widened. “Alcohol poisoning!?” 

“Yes, sir.” He said. “Now, if you’ll please go wait in the waiting room, we will come and talk to you when we know for certain.” 

“I-” 

“Please, sir.” He raised his brows. “Please let us work.” 

Jared swallowed the lump that was in the throat. He slowly nodded, finding that he was unable to say anything. He could only nod in response, turning away from the nurse and walking to the waiting room. 

When Jared sat down, he was still. Alcohol poisoning? He could recall that you were drunk the previous night, but why would you have been drinking that night? What could have caused your to drink as much as he assumed? Slowly, he pulled out his phone and saw the large quantities of messages that were sent by everyone in the chat. 

_ Holy shit, _ it was Jensen who sent this.  _ What happened? Are you both alright?  _

_ Is she okay?  _ Samantha sent. 

_ Which hospital are you at? _ Misha sent.

_ Is she alright?  _ Mark sent. 

_ What happened? _ Ruth sent. 

Jared didn’t even realize how bad his hands were shaking. He let out a couple of uneven breaths before he began to respond to the messages. 

_ We just got to the hospital. It’s Reilly Memorial on 5th and Maple. They have her in the back room. One of the nurses said that they suspect it’s alcohol poisoning. _ He sent. 

It didn’t take that long for other people to respond, saying that they were on their way. They were family at the set of Supernatural. Everyone cared about everyone. Ruth, Mark, Misha, Samantha, and Jensen were all on their way to the hospital. It was ten-forty-five. 

  
  


Everyone arrived at eleven o’clock. Even by then, Jared had not heard a single thing from the nurses that were taking care of you. He could only figure that it was a good thing. You weren’t dead, at least, right? 

The group of friends rushed over to Jared, Samantha and Ruth sitting in seats next to Jared while the men stood in front of him. To them, Jared looked absolutely defeated, skin slightly pale and his eyes filled with nothing but panic and worry. Jensen raised his brows. 

“Man, what happened?” He asked. 

Jared shook his head and swallowed the lump in his throat. “I...I texted (Y/N) and she didn’t respond for a while, so I decided to call her. Well, she didn’t answer. I called her five times. She  _ always _ answers the phone. So I went over to her trailer to see if she was alright. I knocked and pounded on it for a good two minutes before I decided to go in. I may or may not have kicked down her door. I found her...on the floor...with…” he sighed and glanced down. “With vomit all over and she wasn’t responding. I tried shaking her, but she wouldn’t move.” 

Jared was unaware of the tears that were creeping into the corner of his eyes. He sniffled. Samantha and Ruth began to rub his back, hands going in circles. It was a natural instinct for the both of them to comfort the giant. Jared shook his head, glancing between the floor and Jensen, then Misha, then Mark. 

“The nurse said they thought it was alcohol poisoning.” 

Jensen raised his brows. “Really? Did they confirm it?” 

Jared shook his head. “No.” He said. “So I’m not sure, but...but when I called her last night to ask her if she wanted to go to the bar with us, she was drunk. Horribly drunk. She was slurring and she made a damn...Castiel joke from the show.” Normally, he would expect Misha to give a small smirk of pride, but he did nothing. Misha just swallowed and studied Jared’s face. 

Jensen frowned. “I called her, what was it? Two nights ago? To ask her if she wanted to watch the game. She was drunk  _ then _ too.” 

Jared frowned and glanced down. “Do you think she has some sort of problem?” Misha asked. 

“If she does, then how did we not know about this?” Jared asked. 

No one said anything. If you did have a problem, then how long has it been since you started? How has no one else figured it out?

Jensen squatted down in front of Jared and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “Hey, she’ll be alright.” He said, voice trying to be as reassuring as possible. 

Glancing up at him, Jared gave a small nod. All he could do at that point was hope that you were going to be alright. 

  
  


It wasn’t until eleven-thirty that a female nurse came over, clipboard resting gingerly in her petite hands. “Are you all here for Miss (Y/N) (L/N)?” She asked, her voice quiet and soothing. 

Jared perked his head up, raising his brows. Everyone had found seats next to Jared, Ruth and Samantha seated beside him with Mark, Jensen, and Misha sitting on either side of the ladies. Everyone turned their attention to the woman who walked over to them. They turned their gaze to Jared, a silent gesture for him to be the one to speak up. Jared glanced around and then gave a small nod. 

“Yes,” he said. “Is she alright?” 

The nurse nodded. “Yes sir, she is alright. It seems she has suffered from alcohol poisoning. Her BAC was .4. A dose over five times the legal amount. If she would have kept going any longer, then she wouldn’t have made it. We’re surprised she even made it to the hospital.” 

Jared paled. It  _ was _ alcohol poisoning. He slumped in the chair and ran his hand down his face.  He cursed underneath his breath while the people beside him whispered to one another. 

“When she got here, once we got her stable and able to breath, we pumped her stomach. It took a while for us to believe we got all of the alcohol contents out of her stomach. At the moment, she is under a watchful eye. We have started her on fluids as well as a breathing treatment.” The nurse added. 

“How long do you think she will be inside of here?” 

The nurse shrugged. “I would say no less than a week. We need to make sure that we clean out her system of all the alcohol.” 

Jared gave a small nod. 

“She’s out of it right now, but we can accept one visitor.” 

“You should go,” Jensen said, reaching over and placing his hand on Jared’s knee. 

Jared frowned. “I-” 

“You were the one that found her.” Ruth said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You should go and comfort her.” 

Jared swallowed the lump that was in his throat and gave a small nod. He stood up from his chair and brushed his hands down his shirt. He gave a small nod. “Yeah.” He said. “I’ll go.” 

The nurse gave a small nod. “Follow me, sir,” she said, gesturing with her head behind her. 

Glancing at his friends for a moment, Jared attempted to mentally gather himself, preparing for what he was getting witness. He followed the nurse out of the waiting room and down a couple of halls. They made it to a room - 117 - where the woman opened up the door. She entered and gestured to the bed. Jared was hesitant to enter the room. When he did, however, and gazed at the bed in which you laid, his skin turned pale and his eyes widened. 

There, in the bed, you lay with a gas mask covering your face, arms at your sides, IVs connected to your arms and a heart monitor watching your vitals at all hours. Your eyes were closed and your breathing was shallow. Jared slowly began to step towards you. The nurse wrapped her arms around the clipboard, giving him a sad expression.

“If anything happens, press the red button above her bed.” She said with a gentle voice, not waiting for Jared to say anything in return before she turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. 

Jared pulled up a chair that was near your bed, scooting it closer so that he could sit right next to you. He was too scared to even touch you, as if you were going break underneath his massive hand. He slowly reached over and grabbed your hand, bringing it close to him. He felt the tears welling up in his eyes. He had almost lost you that day. Just the thought of losing you made his heart clench in pain and the tears to run down his face. He sniffled. He pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. 

“I’m sorry, (Y/N),” he whispered. “I wish...I wish I was there for you when you were drinking. I wish I knew  _ why _ you were drinking.” 

You were unresponsive, doing nothing but breathing rhythmically beside him. He sniffled and pressed his nose to your hand. 

“I love you,” he whispered. “I’ve loved you for so long. For years and I just haven’t had the balls to say anything to you. I wish I had. Maybe...maybe things would be different. Maybe you wouldn’t have tried to...drink yourself to death.” 

Again, you said nothing. Jared sniffled and shook his head, rubbing your hand. He said nothing more. He planned on waiting there for you until you finally opened your eyes. 

  
  
  


At four in the morning, you opened your eyes. The room was dark other than the dim light coming from the ceiling - Jared had taken the liberty to turn off one of the switches so it wasn’t as bright. Your vision was slightly blurred, so you tried your best to blink your vision clear again. Throughout the night, your breathing had gotten slightly better, but you still needed the gas mask to be able to breath properly. A groan sounded from your throat as you turned your head and saw Jared sitting in the chair next to you. His head was down on the bed, long brown hair flowing down to block his face from you, whispering words underneath his breath. Words that you were barely able to catch.

“Please wake up,” his voice was slightly shaky. “Please don’t leave me, (Y/N). I’ve spent so much time trying not to tell you that I like you, please don’t make me lose my chance. I can’t...I can’t lose my chance.” 

You saw that his hands were wrapped around one of yours. You slowly tried to pull your hand from his, but he kept his grip on it, letting out a small, barely audible gasp as he lifted his head rapidly. His eyes were attached to you. 

“(Y/N)...” He trailed. 

“Jared, you…” your voice was hoarse and scratchy. You coughed. 

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. It’s alright.” Jared reached a hand up and caressed your cheek. You leaned into his hand. “You’re alright.” You saw him swallowed, Adam’s Apple bouncing up and down. Reaching his other hand up, he cupped your cheeks. “What happened? I called you and texted you and when I came over...you were just…” he shook his head. 

You glanced down at the bed and shook your head. “I’m sorry,” you croaked, your voice almost silent as you tried your best to speak clearly. “I...I drank too much. I didn’t mean to.” 

“Jensen told me that when he called you a couple of days ago, that you were drunk too.” 

“You talked to Jensen?” 

Jared nodded. “I told Misha, Jensen, Mark, Sam, and Ruth.” He told you. “They were all here. I don’t know if they are now, it’s pretty late, but they were and Jensen told me when he invited you to come to watch the game with us, you were wasted. Then I called you the day after and you were wasted again. Then...then I call you the next day and you don’t answer. Then I come over and you don’t answer. Then when I came in...I saw you on the floor. I just...I thought I lost you.” 

“But you didn’t…” 

“But they said if I had waited any longer, you would have been dead.” 

You raised your brows. Had you really been that bad? Had your drinking been that excessive for the past six months that you could have died? That was terrifying. You swallowed and coughed. Jared patted your back. You said nothing. 

“(Y/N),” he began. “Why did you drink?” 

“Jared…” 

“(Y/N)...” 

You raised your brows. 

“Please. Tell me. I want to make you feel better. I want to make you feel safe. I want to make it so you don’t feel the urge to drink. It all starts with telling me why. Why did you start drinking?” 

You were nervous to say anything. Nervous that Jared would judge you, tell you to stop being such a pussy and tell you that you were the one to blame for it and not the man that dragged you into the alleyway to have his way with you. A part of you wanted to make up a story about what actually happened and keep the truth safe behind the walls of your mind. But then the thought of death sunk into your head. You had almost died that day. A second longer, or if Jared would not have called or texted or came over to see you, then you would be laying on a cold slab with your friends identifying your body. Cause of death: stupidity. Death didn’t really seem like something you wanted. Life isn’t like it is in the show, where you die every other episode and then come back to life the next. Once you die the first time, you are not coming back. Simply with beverages, you could have ruined your life and many others lives as well. You could have disappeared from the face of the Earth, putting sorrow into the hearts of those who loved you. It would have been your fault that they hurt. You didn’t want them to hurt. They didn’t deserve that. Your coworkers nor the fans. Your family didn’t deserve that. 

So, taking a deep breath - inhaling and exhaling - you tried to to keep yourself composed as you began to tell Jared what had happened. 

“Six months ago, you, Jensen and I were at the bar downtown, just hanging out and having fun. Um…” you trailed. “And I said that I was going to leave early because I was really tired and needed to sleep off the alcohol. So I called an Uber to take me back to the set so I could stumble into my trailer, but he said that it would take a couple of minutes for him to get there. So I thought ‘fine, you know, whatever, I’m drunk as fuck, waiting for a car’, so I sat on the sidewalk and waited. Well...before he could get there, I felt someone grab my shoulder and pull me into the alley right next to the building. I was so out of it that...that I didn’t even realize what was happening until my pants were down around my ankles and my head was buried into the asphalt. 

“It seemed like it took ages before he left and I was there, all alone. I don’t remember how long it actually took me to get off of the ground and put my pants back on. I also don’t know how long it took for me to stagger back to the curb, but when I got there, my Uber driver was there. I got in, he - I think it was a man, I don’t necessarily remember - drove me back to the set, I paid him, and then I went and took a shower. That was where I went to sleep. When I woke up in the morning, the shower was still on and my clothes were on. In the morning, I showered nude and then...started the rest of the day with filming.” 

Jared swallowed and felt his mouth go dry. “I-I…” he trailed and looked down at the ground before he finally glanced back up at you. He pressed his hands against yours lightly. “Why didn’t you tell us?” 

“Because I…” you trailed and thought about the many reasons why you held back on telling anyone. “I thought you wouldn’t believe me. I thought no one would.” 

“Why would you think that?” 

“Because I was drunk and...and drunk people don’t always remember things correctly.” 

“That doesn’t matter, (Y/N),” Jared shook his head. “I would believe you no matter what you tell us. If someone hurt you, then we have to go after them.” 

“It was six month ago, Jared, no one is going to pursue it.” 

“Of course they will! No one is going to let it go.” 

“You really think so?” 

“I  _ know _ so. Me and everyone at the set will make sure that we get that son of a bitch.” 

You frowned. “Jared...you can’t tell everyone what happened.” 

“Why not?’ 

“I…” you trailed and then, finally, after several seconds, sighed. “I should be the one to tell them. Not you.” 

“Do you think you can do that? I mean, I can help if you want.” 

“No, you shouldn’t have to. I should be the one to do it. It happened to  _ me _ and  _ I _ should be the one to tell them. Will you be with me?”

“Of course.” He said. “I’ll be right by your side when you tell them.” 

“Thank you,” you breathed, closing your eyes for a couple of seconds before you opened them. “Did you ask them how long I have to stay in here?”

“The nurse said no less than a week.”

“Shit, I really did myself dirty.” 

“You gave us all a scare.” 

“I’m sorry, Jared. Are they still out there?” 

“I don’t know. Do you want me to go check?” 

“No,” you shook your head. “I don’t want to be by myself.” 

“Alright, alright. Do you want me to text them and call them in?” 

“No, I’m really tired. Plus it really hurts to talk.” 

“You should get to bed and stop  _ talking _ .” He chuckled. 

You smiled. “You started it you oversized moose.” 

“I know, and I’m ending it. You need to go to sleep. Would you like me to turn off the lights?” 

“That would be awesome, thank you.” 

Jared stood up from the chair that he had been previously sitting in and walked over to the lightswitch. He turned it off so that the room was pitch black, a small amount of light appearing through the blinds of the window and the crack underneath the door. Jared used the limited amount of light to guide his way back to the chair that sat next to your bed. He pressed a soft, gentle kiss onto the top of your head. 

“Go to sleep.” He whispered. 

You nodded slowly. “Goodnight, Jared.” 

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” 

You closed your eyes, tilting your head to the side, inhaling the oxygen that was flowing from the tank and to your lungs. As you slowly began to drift off into sleep, the memory of the words that Jared whispered under his breath right when you awoke from your deep slumber. He liked you? He had mindlessly confessed that he had liked you for a while. Of course, Jared didn’t know that you were awake the entire time. Should you say something? Did you even like him? The answer was simple to both questions: yes. 

You, too, had liked Jared for a while. It wasn’t just his adorable face or the puppy dog eyes he did all the time on the show to get what he wanted, but it was his cute personality. It was the way that he hugged you, the way that he smiled at you, the way that he treated you like family, and the way that he said your name with his wonderfully alluring voice of his stole your heart ever since Season 4 of the show. Keeping your feelings from the giant was a bit difficult at first, but soon you got more comfortable with hiding them. However, since Jared stopped hiding them, does that mean you should stop? 

“I like you too,” you said. 

Jared furrowed his brows. “What?” He asked. 

You opened your eyes and turned your head to look at Jared, eyes adjusting to the dark room. “You told me...that you liked me...and that you were nervous to tell me.” 

Jared frowned. “Yeah heard that?” 

“Yeah, and I like you too.” 

“You do?” 

You nodded and smiled lightly. “I have for a while. I guess I got nervous too.” 

Jared blushed brightly and bit his lip. He reached over and pressed a kiss against your head, smiling lightly. “We’ll talk about it when you wake up. Right now, you need the rest.” 

“Okay,” you whispered. You reached over and grabbed his hand, wrapping your fingers around his. “Stay?”

“Of course. Get some sleep.” 

“Alright,” you whispered and closed your eyes, leaning your head to the side. 

You let out a small breath of air. With Jared slowly running his thumb over your hand and the oxygen flowing through your lungs, you drifted off to sleep. 


End file.
